


Three Little Words

by allofthefandoms



Series: Mirrored Experience [1]
Category: James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: But Mostly Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Q also has a family, Q has a name, Recovery, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-21
Updated: 2012-11-22
Packaged: 2017-11-19 04:16:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/568991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofthefandoms/pseuds/allofthefandoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They have Q.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is a depressing lack of proper 00Q hurt/comfort and my Q and I decided to fix this. So this chapter is mostly hurt. And a little bit of comfort.
> 
> Yeah, the POV in the beginning is super clunky, but I kind of needed all of that there... Whoops.

They have Q.

Three little words that tore James Bond’s fragile life apart. He had stared at the report for long minutes before M had pulled him aside, his face sombre and sad.

“You don’t have to go on the recovery mission if you think--”

“Of course I’m going,” he said sharply, cutting off the rest of M’s remark. “He is my friend and my partner.” M gave him a knowing look and said nothing.

But now that he was standing in front the door to the cell they had been keeping Q in, he wasn’t so sure this had been a good idea.

Every MI6 agent received some sort of hostage training. How To Be Kidnapped, they called it jokingly. For the Q branch, it usually was just a few minute ordeal, not even a simulation, just a speech, where they were told that you never give your real name, you never give any information, and you really don’t have to worry about kidnapping, you’ll hardly leave HQ anyway. 

No one ever said how hard it would be, though. Pain and chloroform had made Q delirious, and his body had been hurt in ways he didn't know existed. The tiny room was dank and moldy, making each breath he took a burning nightmare. His glasses were gone, his ribs were broken, his was cut and burned and bloody. But he kept quiet. No matter how much pain, he kept his mouth shut. But, god, it was hard....he wanted James...

James had to use all of his training not to rush to Q’s side. He was covered in blood and bruises and he could see the beginnings of infection in the gashes along his side. When he knelt beside him Q blinked up too slowly, and his eyes were dilated as if he were drugged.

“Q, can you hear me?” James asked, keeping his voice calm and level even though he wanted to cry and cradle Q in his arms.

“Can you respond?”

His world was swimming, swimming in a sea of pain and disorientation and he wanted to die, for it to just be over so he could sleep, when suddenly a voice he had been dreaming about floated through, loud and sharper than it was in dreams. He wasn’t sure if it was real or not, but Q tried to respond anyway.

“J-j’ms...” he managed to gasp out on a wheezing breath. His whole body shook as he used his last energy to try and lean forward, so he could see through the fog to find James.

“Stay still,” James ordered sharply. “We don’t know how badly hurt you are.” But James shifts him so Q’s head is in his lap, just so he can comfort himself with a solid body, even though it looks like Q has lost 20 pounds while he’s been held captive.

He takes out the packet of baby wipes Q had insisted he take with him, peeling open the packet to a waft of fake too-sharp lemon so he could wipe the blood and grime off of Q’s face. What he sees makes his hands shake.

Under all the dirt, James can see the massive bruising covering one side of his face. It’s raw and red, and James thinks there might be fractures. He keeps his touch feather light.

James goes through 10 wipes before Q’s face looks passably human. Once it’s done, James feels at loose ends, and just focuses of the up and down of Q’s too shallow breathing.

Q twitched and shuddered underneath James’ touch, whimpering when his hands found something too tender or too badly abused. But he slowly began to calm, thanks to both James’ hands, and the familiar smell of lemon alcohol wipes. He let his eyes slip closed and tried to breathe.

“007,” Eve’s voice asked in his ear, clipped and professional in this context, not her usual subtly teasing self. “Status report. Have you recovered Q?”

“Yes, but I am not sure he is in any condition to leave under his power,” James said thickly. “There is head and face trauma, blood loss, infection and fever and most likely some sort of drug in his system. He’s barely awake as it is.” Which is not good.

“Eyes on me, Q,” James begs, tapping the unbruised side of his face. “You can’t go to sleep yet. Let me get you out of here first.”

There was an almost imperceptible sigh in the earpiece. “Do you know if he was...sexually assaulted?” Moneypenny asked, her voice tight. 

“I can’t tell,” James said, trying to keep his voice from cracking. There is too much blood everywhere for James to tell.

Another voice broke in--Tanner. “Medical evac is on its way to you. 8 minutes, tops. Can you keep him stable and conscious til then?”

“Yes,” James replied, even though he wasn’t sure. He didn’t have any other choice.

Q pried his eyes open. Everything was blurry, but he’d know that profile anywhere. “James...is this real?” He slurred. There had been too many hallucinations, too many lucid dreams where James had come to him, and he couldn’t be sure if this wasn’t one of them, too.

And that’s when James cracks. He bows his head over Q’s broken body and cries, his whole body shaking.

“It’s me, Q,” he whispered around heaving sobs. “I’m here. Just 8 more minutes and you’ll be out of this hell hole. I’m here. I promise.”

The voices in James ear went quiet, pretending they couldn’t hear, taking him off of speaker, and slipping their earpieces out to give Bond his privacy. They would hear when he spoke to them, but everything else was his own business, his and Q’s, and after all that, Tanner and Eve decided the two of them deserved it.

Q took a few shaking breaths, trying to keep his eyes open. If he was going to die, (and somewhere in the back of his over-analytical mind, he knew the likelihood was strong, even now), he wanted James to be the last thing his eyes saw, his brain comprehended, his mind thought of. “Don’t...cry, please...what will...Moneypenny think?”

“Doesn’t matter,” James choked out. “They’ll understand...” Trying to do the best he could not to jar the injured man, James scooped up Q and cradled him against his chest, hating that Q smelled of sweat, dirt, blood and pain.

“Just 8 more minutes, Q,” he whispered over and over. “8 more minutes and you’ll be out of here.”

Q was fading fast. Everything hurt, everything ached and burned and stung and throbbed and his lungs were struggling to draw in any breath at all. “...lo’you...” he managed to whimper as his eyes slid closed against his own will.

“I love you too,” James whispered. But Q had gone limp, and James couldn’t feel the comforting puff of air against his neck.

“Q?” James asked, pulling away to look at him. He wasn’t breathing. “Q!” It was that moment that a team swarmed the room, shoving James aside.

“There’s nothing more you can do right now, 007. Please step aside.”

Nothing more you can do. Nothing more you can do. Nothingmoreyoucando, Nothingmoreyoucando. The words rattled over and over in his head. Nothing more you can do. 

CPR on the scene and oxygen and life support got Q breathing again as they airlifted him to the hospital. Moneypenny’s voice was back in James’ ear, quietly whispering support. “I’ve got Tanner on the phone with the hospital, he’ll be getting the best care available, you’re only minutes away now, it’ll be alright, Bond, he’ll be okay.”

Q was taken to surgery, then the ICU. Hours passed. Finally, a doctor came up to Bond. “Are you here for Mr. Talbot, then?”

“Yes,” James said as he looked up. He was shaky and pale, the front of his suit still crusted in Q’s blood and grime. 

The doctor sighed. “He’s stable. There’s some serious damage, though, and healing will take a long time. But at this point, we can fairly safely say he will make it out of this, barring any complications. However, there might be some lasting damage, to lungs and possibly to his left hand--the bones were broken very badly, and it might not be entirely fixable.” The doctor looked up at James.

“Do whatever it takes to make sure his hands heal,” James growled. “He can’t...” The doctor is looking at him with a sad and knowing smile and his jaw snaps shut.

“It’s just a possibility to be aware of.” James knew he was being placated, but he dropped the subject as a darker one flooded his mind.

“There...” James looked away, hating that this could have even been a possibility for him beloved Q. “There is also a possibility that he was...sexually assaulted. Was there any indications of this?”

The doctor shook his head. “No. That was one of the first things we did as soon as he was stable, and he appears to be clean. We found no indication that anything of that manner had occurred. “Now, he’s currently still in ICU, and unconscious, but you can come see him if you’d like. We’ve been told you have...special clearance.”

James’ knees are shaking, and he thanks Moneypenny for the favor. He must remember to bring her the largest latte he can find when all of this is over. He follows the doctor, trying to slow his crazy racing heartbeat. But he is almost sick when he sees Q lying there.

Now that he is clean of blood and grime, the whiteness of his face is clear, thrown into stark contrast by the bruises that litter his face, shoulder and arms. His chest must look even worse. Monitors are drowning Q’s already small frame, and James shudders as he sits down.

“You idiot,” James said as he fought back tears. “How did this happen?”

 

It was around 7 pm the next day when Q finally opened his eyes. The first thing he noticed was how he couldn’t see, not clearly anyway. There was so much white around...had he fallen asleep at his desk? Where were his glasses, then? Out of habit, he tried to lift his arm and reach for the thick frames. Bad idea. His body screamed in protest, and the wind seemed knocked out of him by the pain. A desperate whimper escaped his lips. God, where was he? What happened?

James is wide awake at Q’s first whimper.

“Q! Q, it’s James. You’re alright now. You’re safe!”

Q blinked rapidly, trying to make his eyes focus on James face. It was blurry, but it was there. “James,” he croaked, surprised at the abused quality of his voice. Honestly, what had happened. “Where am I?”

“You don’t remember what happened?” James said dumbly. “Nothing at all?” And I’m the one who has to tell you?

“You were captured and tortured for a week,” James said thickly, swallowing a choked cry. “I’m sorry...”

And suddenly it’s all there. Every moment he was lucid enough to remember is clawing at the surface of his mind, reminding him exactly where he was hurt and how in picture-perfect detail and he feels like there’s something trying to claw its way out of his throat...

He realized he was babbling desperately, disjointed words and pleas tumbling from his mouth and he couldn’t make them stop. He’s squirming and wincing because his body, his personal space, was violated-decimated-desecrated and his can’t, he just can’t...

“Q!” James called, grabbing his less battered hand as he called for the nurse. “Q, it’s James! We got you out. You’re safe now. Just listen to my voice. Listen. You’re ok. You’re ok.”

His babbling was now just one word, sobbed over and over--”No, no no no no”--until he was out of energy, which happened so quickly, he was still so tired. His voice simply gave out and he shuddered, tears streaking his face. He wanted out, out of his skin, he wanted to get the feeling of other hands off of him, and shit, his lungs hurt...

A nurse hurried in, and injected some sort of tranquilizer into his IV. “Slow breaths, Alex, easy,” she said. She turned to James. “I’m guessing he found out what happened?”

“I couldn’t not tell him,” James said, ducking his head. “He is too important to me. I could never hide something like this from him.” He goes to Q’s good, well better, side at any rate, so he could stroke Q’s face. 

“You’re ok, Q,” he repeated. “I’m here. You’re safe now.”

The drugs and the fact that he actually has to focus on breathing had brought Q somewhat back to himself. Whimpering, he closed his eyes. “James...they- they touched me, they hurt me...” Tears began to drip down his face again.

“I know sweetheart, I know,” James said softly. “I know.” He doesn’t know what else to do, and the distant scared look on Q’s face was breaking his heart. Moneypenny had gotten a pair of glasses in Q’s prescription,and he slid them onto Q’s bruised face.

“There, any better?”

Incredibly, it was. Not completely, but with the glasses on, Q felt less vulnerable, less fragile and so unlike himself. He could see, he could assess the situation, he could feel the heavy weight of the frames on his sore face and know for a fact that he was still here, not just lost in some ungodly foggy world of pain and fear. He felt slightly more human. It wasn’t perfect, he would have to clean the frames, maybe even get new ones, but for now, it helped. “Mmm,” he said hoarsely. “Yeah.” He still shook, though, and his eyes still glistened with tears.

James wanted to hold him, wanted to kiss away every touch that was makin Q’s skin crawl and replace it with warmth and love, but he knew that all he could do was take Q’s uninjured hand and stay where Q could see him.

Despite how everything still ached and he wanted to squirm out of his skin, Q took several deep breaths through his nose (deep as he could with the aching and wheezing), and tried to stop shaking and crying. “...I’d be so grateful for a cup of earl gray, please,” he said finally, his voice still trembling and raw, but closer to in control.

“I’m sorry,” the nurse said softly. “I’m afraid you can’t have any fluids orally until the sedative wears off. But in a few hours we’ll try you on some ice chips and we’ll play it by ear from there.”

“Can you please just bring him a cup of weak tea?” James snapped. “If he throws it back up again later, so be it, but just let him have something that will relax him.” James hates that they are being so recalcitrant, but the woman soon returns with a steaming cup of tea.

“I’m drawing the line at milk,” she said with a grin, scooting the bed into a sitting position so James could help Q drink.

Q nearly cried at the sight of the cup of tea. It wasn’t his Scrabble mug, but really, all things considered, this was more than he could have hoped for. He knew he didn’t have the strength to hold the mug, so he let James do it, gulping weakly at the warm tea. A shudder ran through him as the tea hit his stomach, but the taste and smell were so soothing that he didn’t mind. “Thank you,” he said.

“It’s the least I can do, seeing as I failed to keep you safe.” James takes the cup away when Q has had about half of the tea. He knows firsthand that sedatives really can wreak havoc on one’s stomach, and he didn’t want Q to make himself sick.

Q frowned. Maybe his memory is still foggy on some things. “Failed? When did this happen?” He asked, blinking rapidly as he tried to remember. 

“This never should have happened to you,” James said brokenly, tears beginning to track down his face. “If I had been doing my job, you wouldn’t be lying here at death’s door.”

Q sighed softly, fighting back his own tears. One of them had to, and it might as well be him. “James...it could have happened to anyone. This is not your fault. And honestly, I’m hardly at death’s door. His front walk, perhaps, but I don’t plan on ringing the bell, so enough of that.” He quipped, trying to keep his own emotions out of it, trying to focus on anything but the fact that he had been praying for death days before.

“When I found you, you stopped breathing. You weren’t breathing!” This is when James crumples in on himself, days, no weeks of repressed tears flooding out of him. “You stopped breathing in my arms, Q, and that means I failed.”

 

Q can barely keep his own breathing steady, and he’s losing his grip on the calm and control he was trying so hard to keep. “James...James, please, it’s okay, I’m still here, you saved me, look...” his breath was hitching and there were tears blurring his vision, but Q clung desperately to James with his good arm. “Please, James, it’s all alright.” He began to cry earnestly now, his posh accent slipping with his control. “Please, I need you right now, we’re okay, I just need you...”

“Of course.” James wiped at his eyes, stopping his tears by sheer force of will. Q needed him to be strong.

“You should try to sleep some more,” James said softly. “You are still very sick.”

Q nodded, still hiccuping slightly with sobs. He lay back, shoulders sagging and eyes sliding shut almost instantly. “You, too...rest. Don’t think I don’t know you haven’t left this room.”

James shook his head smiling around his tears. 

“I showered once, but that was it.” he leaned over, pressing the lightest kiss he could to Q’s forehead before curling up on the cot the nurse had brought for him.  
“I’ll be here when you wake.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Q comes home. There is fallout.

It had been over a month in the hospital. The first two weeks were spent in the ICU, the next two in regular care, and most of it with James at his side. There had been rough days, physically and mentally, and a damned cough that wouldn’t go away, though the doctors claimed it wasn’t serious, but Q was finally feeling well enough that he was allowed home...on the condition that he would be getting in-home care and check-ups, as well as being on a medication regimen that he despised. But he was home, and that made the last bit of tension in his shoulders drain.

And it had been a month of hovering a nerves for James. There had been the setback when the cough had turned into pneumonia that had hung around for weeks, and the worry about Q’s hand, but now Q was firmly in bed and James took the first true relaxing breath since Q’s capture almost 6 weeks ago.

“I am going to put on water for tea. Would you like a cup?”

“God, yes,” Q said, smiling a little. The emotional wounds were healing just as well as the physical ones. His natural chipper personality and optimism helped, as did the few talks with a psychologist at the hospital. He felt safe again, for the most part, and being in his own home helped. 

With his good hand, Q grabbed his personal cell and pulled up his voicemail on speaker as James bustled about in the kitchen. The first two were from Moneypenny, wishing him well, and then reminding him to have Bond call M as soon as he could, but no major rush, thanks. The next one started just as James came back into the bedroom. “Hullo, Percy, love, I just--” He ended the call as fast as he could, eyes slightly panicked.

James gave a full body jerk as his head stopped his body without him quite being aware of it. Only his reflexes keep him from sloshing scalding tea over his slippered feet.

“Percy?” James asked with a raised eye. “Who are you talking to?”

Q froze. His options were all clear to him, but which to take. “That was...ah...well. Um. I...” he sighed. James deserved to know. It was only fair--Q had access to James’ whole file, one of only 3 people who did, and he knew everything. James knew very little, comparatively, when it came to Q. “Perseus. That’s my full name. After the myth. But I always liked Percy better, and mum respected that.” The corner of his mouth twitched up slightly in a fond smile.

“Percy...” James mused, a tender smile on his face. “Percy.” He tucked himself against Q’s better side, snuggling down into the bed, pleased that Q now smelled of his own body wash rather than hospital disinfectant. His heart ached when he realised just how close he had been to never learning such a simple thing out about his lover, and it left James with a twisted feeling, and he buried himself in the crook of Q’s neck.

He liked hearing James call him that, the way his faint Scottish accent caressed the ‘e’ and lavished the ‘r.’ Q smiled, peeking up at James over his glasses. “Indeed. Though I’m hardly Medusa-slaying material, I’ll confess.” He smiled a little and kissed James’ hair. “You know...there’s an imbalance of information, between us. If you ever want to know anything, ask. I’ll tell you, you deserve to know.” 

“I know the relevant things,” James mumbled into Q’s neck. “Like how you like your tea and what to bring you when you’re working late nights. I know what brands of shampoo and toothpaste to buy. How that happened is incidental.”

Q chuckled. “True. You do know all that. ...you’ve never met my mother, though, or my sisters.” He sighed a tiny bit, though. “But you’re right. You do know more than I give you credit for.”

James just smiled, pressing as much of himself as he could against Q’s now strong and mostly healthy body. Due to how immobile he has been, the weight he had regained wasn’t muscle, but it gave off a soft and safe air that James really needed. His therapist said it was ok that he was having a harder time adjusting than Q, but it didn’t stop James from hovering and worrying.

Q leaned into James, enjoying the warmth and comforting presence. After the ordeal, he had been worried--he always was a bit odd about physical contact, and after a traumatic ordeal involving personal boundaries being broken and physical abuse, it was likely he would be even more uncomfortable with it. However, James, and more specifically, having James close to him, had been the only thing that had been able to calm Q down on several occasions. And for that, he was grateful.

“I’d like you to meet them...Mum and the girls. If you’d like, that is. Some time.”

“I’d like that very much,” James said softly. He wants--has wanted for a while--to relearn and look after that gangly expanse of body, but he knows he can’t force the issue. Q may not have been raped, but it didn’t mean his body hadn’t been horribly violated. He was going to let Q and Q alone make that call. So instead he pressed a tender kiss to a freshly healed scar.

Q sighed at the contact, eyes fluttering closed. He knew what James wanted--he had for a few days now, mulling it over--and taking a deep breath, he turned to press a kiss to James’ forehead. “I’ve missed you...all of you.” 

“You’re still hurting,” James protested weakly. “I’ve seen the way you get totally exhausted and out of breath just by starts and I don’t want...” His voice died out at Q’s insistent touch. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Q frowned. “We’ll be gentle, careful...it doesn’t have to be anything magnificent, I just...I want to feel you against me, so I know everything’s not totally ruined, please...” he pressed soft kisses to every bit of James he could reach, twining the fingers of his good hand in James’ hair. 

He lets Q pick the pace, shivering at the brush of skin against skin. He didn’t want to push him away, and so he lay perfectly still letting Q touch and explore.

Q's fingers trailed slowly down James' chest and shoulders, and he pressed his forehead against the other man's. His hands ran along the smooth planes of James' muscled body, finding the familiar dips and ridges of muscle, scar and bone. It felt nice and safe like this, but he knew James was holding back, and the whole point of this was to see of Q could be touched, not if he could do the touching. 

"Go on," he murmured. "I want you, please."

James rolled Q over gently, hating the fresh trails of scar tissue that marred Q’s beautiful skin. They never should have been there, but the red welts, marks ripped into skin by a jagged blade, stared up at him.

“I’m sorry,” James said sadly, running his hands across the new formed scars. He knows Q hates that James blames himself for what happened (He does, because Q never should have been in the field) but he can’t help it.

So he apologizes with hands and mouth, because he’s never really been good with words anyway, and the least he can do is give Q what he wants.

Q shivered a little, and bit back the memories that were trying to push through. He knew it was only James, that he kept his eyes on him, taking deep breaths and trying to focus on how the bed felt beneath them, and the warmth and gentleness of James’ mouth and hands. “C-careful,” he murmurs as James’ tongue scraped over one of the scars from his surgery. It was raw, and it hurt, but he kept his hand in James’ hair.

James felt the tension in Q’s body and rolled away. He knew Q was fighting a flashback, and he couldn’t bring himself to cause Q any distress.

“This is a bad idea,” he mumbled, back to Q.

Q took a moment to steady his breathing, and laid back. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your fault, I shouldn’t be pushing it. James. James, look at me, please,” he said once he was sure his voice wouldn’t shake. “I’m alright, just...look at me.”

James can’t bring himself to roll over. He has to be strong because Q is still so weak. He can’t let Q see just how much he wants to cry.

Sighing, Q lifted himself up onto his elbows and looked over at James. “Why do you blame yourself for this? There is no way you could have known...I made the call to go out into the field, anyway. I don’t blame you...I’ve never blamed you. And if you need to hear if...I forgive you.”

“I failed!” James roared, pulling away to stand. “It’s my job to protect you! You’re my Q, and more importantly I love you, and yet I let this happen to you! You should be the one digging me out of trouble, but now every time I look at you I’m going to have to face what they did to you because I wasn’t careful enough!”

James is standing in nothing but sleep shorts, and he is shaking and angry and sad all at once, and it takes every ounce of his will not to storm away. Q needs him.

Q stares at him, eyes wide and so worried. He had seen James upset, and determined and focused in on nothing but the mission, but he had never seen him this enraged, this self-destructive and furious. And honestly, it scared him. “James...” he whispered.

He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t and he turned away, shoving on sweatpants and a simple white shirt before grabbing the duffel that he always had prepared for short notice trips. He doesn’t look back at Q.

Q can barely draw in breath now, he’s so shocked and panicked, and he doesn’t know how to respond. Nowhere in his vast stores of knowledge does he know what to do in this situation. He sits back on the bed and bites back tears, feeling like he ruined everything.

James wanders for a while before he finds himself at Eve’s door. He knocks, and when no one answers, he slumps, sitting on the steps. She’ll come eventually.

She stood over him, frowning, and crouched down to his level. “I may have to report you to M,” she muttered, checking his eyes for signs of alcohol or drugs--she knew his history. “Alright, up, inside, come on. I’m not going to let you wallow here, and Thea will be pissed if you’re drunk on the stoop when she gets home.”

“Not drunk,” James said, though as soon as she said it he wished he was. Anything to ease the sting. He let Eve manhandle him inside, just making sure he didn’t trip or fall. He felt so numb...

Eve sat him down on the couch and went to the kitchen, returning a moment later with a small glass of vodka. “Fine, then drink, and tell me what happened.” She stood opposite him. “If you’d had your ass handed to you, you’d be with Q, or hiding in a safe house. So what happened?”

At the mention of Q, James rolled over, not even paying attention to the shot she held out for him. He didn’t want it. He had already filled his quota of stupid for the day.

“Q was released from the hospital today.”

Eve frowned. “Then where is he? Why aren’t you with him?” Her sharp eyes ran over him, and she straightened up, pulling the glass back. “What did you do?” She asked, knowing instantly that there had to have been a falling out. “Bond. What did you do?”

”He asked me to touch his scars,” James whispered, only now taking the vodka, draining the generous shot in one go.

“And I couldn’t.”  
Eve was quiet for a moment. She had been on both sides of that coin--wanting someone to touch you so you knew you were still whole and loved, and being scared of hurting the one who was scarred because you were reminded of how fragile they were. She couldn’t yell at him one way or another, because honestly she didn’t know what she would have done. She finally asked the only neutral question she could.

“You left him alone?”

“I can’t show him how weak I am,” James murmured. “He needs me to be strong for him.”

“He needs you,” she replied crisply. “Whether you are strong or not, he needs you to be there. You’re both scared, you’ve both been hurt...it’s a different hurt for each of you, and you can only fix it by being together.” Moneypenny sat down next to James, and put her hand on his shoulder. “Q knows you better than anyone else. He understands. But he’s still so lost, and you need to go make sure he knows that you won’t be leaving. Understood, 007?”

“I can’t face him like this.” James doesn’t know if it’s the vodka or just Eve’s comforting presence, but soon he’s slumped against her and bawling.

Eve sat and held James, quietly. She didn’t speak, didn’t try to find words to comfort him, because she knew that right now, he didn’t need that. He just needed to allow the experience to happen. When he had tired himself out, she would talk, but now, she would just take care of him. 

When it’s done, James pulls away, rubbing at his face like a child trying to be brave.

“I’m sorry...”

“That’s alright. Do you need anything?” She asked, handing him a tissue from the box on the table.

James scrubbed at his face and shook his head.

“Maybe another shot of vodka,” he said with a wry shake of his head.

She smiled a little. “Water, then, good.” She stood and strode to the kitchen, coming back with a glass of water. “Now, what are you going to do?”

“He’ll be so upset,” James said, nursing the glass of water. He didn’t even want it, but it was something for his shaking hands to hold so it would be so obvious that he had no clue what to do next.

“Yes, he probably will. But if you never go back, then he’ll hate you for the rest of time and it’ll make field work a hell, I’d imagine. A man like Q angry at you forever is a terrible thing.” She gave him a wry look. “Come along, James, it will be alright. He knows you. He knows that you just needed a bit. If you explain it to him, he might stop being upset and you two can figure this all out.”

James knew she was right. But that didn’t mean getting off her couch and doing it got any easier. But when he had finished his water and unfolded himself, he gave her a weak, but genuine smile.

“I figured there was a reason I ended up on your doorstep,” he said finally, eyes full of thanks. “Now to go sort out my mess.” he gave her a kiss on the cheek before standing.

“Thank you.”

She smirked a little. “Darling, I am the reason M can run MI6, of course you come to me. Wouldn’t dream of having it any other way. Now get out before my wife gets home, she won’t be pleased at all.” Eve chuckled and kissed back.

“Go.”

And James went.

When he arrived back at the apartment he shared with Q, he stood outside for a long moment, unsure of what to do or say. So he settled for ringing the doorbell, trying to calm the shake in his hands.

It took Q a few minutes to limp to the door. His lungs still ached from the fit of hyperventilation (oh, man up and call it what it was, Percy, a panic attack) that hit when James had left, and his whole body was sore. But finally he opened the door. “...James.”

Q looked terrible. The sight of him causes another stab of guilt to flood through James’ chest, and he reached out with a shaking hand to brush Q’s cheek.

“I’m so sorry,” he choked out, dropping his hand and looking away. “I...I shouldn’t have gotten so upset at you.”

Q shivered, and tried not to wheeze. “I shouldn’t have pushed...I’m sorry as well.” He took another step forward, and leaned against James’ chest. “I’ve been over optimistic about all of this, I know...I just wanted you back, I wanted to get the sadness out of your eyes.”

“You know how hard this has been for me,” James murmured into Q’s hair. “Just because we’re finally home doesn’t mean things are going to just magically be ok.” As he held Q, he noticed his breathing was shorter than it should be, and rattled around in his chest wrong.

“Q?” James asked, suddenly concerned. “Are you alright?”

Q leaned into James even more. Lord, he was tired. “I know...we still have to work hard. And I will, I promise.”

He frowned. “No...I had a bit of an...episode, after you left. It aggravated my lungs.” He fidgeted with the sleeves of his sweater.

“Back to bed with you!” James said, hating that he had caused Q distress. “Grab your inhaler and I’ll bring you some tea.” He hurried Q back into bed, and hand on his elbow. Once he saw that Q was comfortably propped up in a nest of pillows and blankets, he went to go put the kettle on.

“Any preference for tea?” he called, looking at the assortment they had. James was a black tea and milk person, but Q had tea for every occasion.

Q sat back in bed and fumbled around in the bedside table drawer until he found his inhaler. The tautness in his chest began to recede quickly, and he sighed in relief. 

“Chai, please,” he called, his voice stronger. “Milk and sugar, maybe a little cinnamon?”

“Of course,” James set the tea to steep as soon as the water boiled, setting an egg timer so he wouldn’t forget. He found the milk, sugar and cinnamon, and took out a tray of chilled lemon bars from the fridge. They were supposed to have been celebratory, bought yesterday when James found out that Q was coming home, but they’d be a decent apology too. Once everything was ready, he put it on a tray and brought it back to the bedroom.

Q looked up and smiled. “Well, isn’t this lovely. I feel quite special now.” He let James set the tray on his lap (his grip still wasn’t good enough in his left hand) and stirred the milk, sugar, and cinnamon into his tea. “You got lemon bars? When was this?” He beamed.

“Yesterday,” James said softly. “They were supposed to be a welcome home present, but you saw how that went.” He pressed a kiss to Q’s forehead, happy to hear his breathing had evened out. Slipping into bed, James leaned his head on Q’s shoulder.

Q sighed and took a sip of tea. “Oh, this is just lovely. I cannot tell you quite how much I’ve missed my own tea. And my own mug. And my own bed, dear lord.” He smiled a little at James. “And my own double-oh.”

“Even though he can be cruel?”

Q shook his head. “You’re never cruel. Never to me. Because I know you love me. And I love you.” He leaned up and kissed James softly. 

“I feel cruel,” James mumbled as he snuggled closer. “All the time.” But Q was calm and content, and James was going to make sure he stayed like that.

Q gently stroked James’ cheek. “Just because a man does bad things does not make him a bad man,” he said gently. “You are not a bad man, James Bond. You are a wonderful man.”

“If you say so...” But right now, James was wrapped around the love of his life, and he could almost forget the month of hospital visits and near death experiences. it was almost normal, the smell of tea and lemon in the air, the press of Q’s chest against his ear the soft sigh of his breathing...

They fell asleep in each other’s arms. Q, thankfully, had the common sense to move the tray and mug before dozing off, but they had hardly budged since James had brought him his tea. It was the first comfortable, full sleep Q had gotten since the kidnapping. It was a blessed relief.

James woke slowly, safe in the arms of the person he loved more than any other. The air still smelled of tea and James smiled sleepily.

Q blinked blearily. “Wha’ time’zit?” He slurred, trying to roll over despite the pain in his shoulder, and James on his chest.

“A little after 10,” James said with a smile. “We both slept like the dead.”

“Good. I haven’t slept well in a month,” Q grumbled. “I need to get up, though, my leg’s gone numb.” He gently shoved at James’ shoulder, trying to get him off his chest. He reached over and slid his glasses onto his face. His phone lit up with another voice mail. “Oh, hell, what now?”

“I’ll go put on a pot of coffee,” James said with a sigh, rolling out of bed. He wanted to move just about as much as Q did ( which was not at all), but coffee would help, and if there was work to be done, he didn’t want to be caught with his pants down.

Q checked his phone--another voicemail from his mother--and wandered into the bathroom. He joined James in the kitchen a few moments later in a different jumper and with clean teeth. “My mum rang again. She knew I was coming home yesterday, and she wants to see me.” He sat and the kitchen table and looked up at James. “Would you come with?”

“I’ll come and meet your mother, Percy,” James said with a grin. He liked the way the name rolled off his tongue and he smiled at Q as he came in with two mugs of steaming hot coffee.

A slightly blush crept into Q’s face as James said his name--his real name. “You had better get used to calling me that, at least for the time being. Mother and the girls don’t know exactly what it is that I do, for their own safety. They know I’m in the government, but they think I’m merely a pencil pusher.” He chuckled a little. “I think Liz and Cori are going to be around today as well.” James smiled. 

“It will be nice to get to meet the family, act like a normal couple instead of a pair of super-agents,” he said with a grin. “But how did you explain the month in the hospital to them? A car crash?”

“A bus accident, but yes. Essentially. I only had Miss Moneypenny alert them after I looked less...emaciated. I couldn’t let them see me like that.” He frowned, and sipped his coffee. “They want to meet you so badly, all of them. Just...be prepared for hovering. And if I lose the accent I would greatly appreciate it if there was a minimal amount of mocking.” 

“Oh?” James said with a tilt of the head. “Put it on to sound more posh, did you?” He’s teasing and curious all at once. Just another thing he doesn’t know about his beloved Q.

Q bit his lip. “When they call you ‘chav’ at school, you quickly learn ways to adapt and survive,” he said simply. “Private institutions can be very unforgiving to those whose family’s names don’t adorn the wall of benefactors.”

James pulled Q back to him for a long moment, pressing kisses to his hair.

“Well, you showed them, didn’t you?” he said fondly. “I’d bet anything that not a single one of those bullies are anywhere near as successful or important. Now, time to down the rest of my coffee and make myself presentable, yeah?”

Q smiled. “Hardly crosses my mind anymore. And the accent is natural to me now. Just promise no laughing when you hear how ungodly common I sound at home, alright?” He leaned up and kissed James’ jaw. “Yes, go. I have to shower, too, but I’ll probably take considerably longer than you.”

“No laughing,” James promised, pressing a kiss to Q’s nose. “I’m sure I’ll find it utterly adorable and then ask you to drop the accent when we’re in bed.” Padding to the shower like a cat, James pulled out nice but not flashy clothes. No suit this time. Just jeans and a crisp short sleeved dress shirt.

When he was done, he sat on the edge of the bed to dry his hair, dressed only in his trousers.

“Your turn.”

Q limped into the shower and slowly, painstakingly, washed. He still ached most mornings, and his left hand was still a wreck, making it hard to wash his hair. Finally at a loss, he poked his head out of the shower. “James?”

“Do you need my help?” James asked, stepping into the steamy bathroom, hitting the fan so he could see a little better. 

Q sighed and smiled sheepishly. “I’ve got no grip, so I can’t hold the shampoo bottle, or lather my hair...it’s all a bit vexing, would you mind?”

James smiled, happy to help in any way he could after the snafu yesterday. He slipped out of his trousers and pants, placing them where they wouldn’t get wet, and stepped back into the shower.

“Turn around,” he said softly, squirting a generous dollop of shampoo into his hand.

Q turned with his back to James, cradling his sore left hand against his chest, and trying to subtly rub the pain away. “Thank you,” he said, just loud enough to be heard over the water.

James could tell Q was in pain, and hated to see it. But he didn’t say anything, instead setting about getting Q’s hair lathered and then rinsed. He rubbed just the way he knew liked it (the man was like a cat when it came to head massages) and gave a pleased hum when Q relaxed fully against him, letting James support more of his weight.

He was trying his best to maintain dignity and composure, but with James rubbing him and massaging him like that, how could he? Q slumped back against James, the caffeine from his morning coffee still not quite kicking in, meaning he had his eyes half-closed and his mind back in bed. Q flexed his sore hand, and then tried to pick up the bar of soap, to little success. “Shit,” he grumbled as it dropped to the floor of the tub.

“Shhh,” James said, rubbing the last of the shampoo out of Q’s hair. “Just take it easy, ok? I know you’re still hurting.” Instead of picking up the bar of soap, he went for his own body wash, which smelled of expensive cologne. It’s a strange form of possessiveness, wanting Q to smell like him and no one else. But he lathers Q up anyway, just letting Q stand while he did all the work.

When Q was all clean, James stepped out, grabbing a big fluffy towel and drying Q off before drying himself and putting his clothes back on.

Q’s frown deepened. “Yes, I’m hurting, but if I don’t get this blasted hand used to some sort of functioning, I might lost more mobility than I already have, and...and I can’t have that.” He grumbled. But despite his frustration, Q relaxed enough to let James coddle him. It was nice to be taken care of.

And James likes taking care of him.

“Q, you’ve barely been out of the splints for 2 days,” he chides softly. “Don’t ask for miracles, ok? You’ll get there if you’re diligent with your exercises.”

Q slipped his glasses back on once they were out of the shower. “Thank you, love.” He got dressed quickly, only fumbling with a few buttons, then turned to James. “Shall we?”

“Let’s,” James replied, offering Q his arm.

It wasn’t a long ride to the rather dingy apartment building where the Lowell family lived. Q led James to the front door and buzzed the flat.

“Hullo?” A chipper female voice came through the tinny speaker.

Q beamed. “Special delivery for Lizzie Lowell,” he said, the posh accent completely gone. 

There was a laugh over the speaker. “Well, come on then, bring it up, right quick, you bastard!” Q laughed in return and the front door unlocked. Up three flights of stairs (slowly, Q was still needing the time to breathe), and they were there. A grinning, female version of Q, older by maybe 3 years, stood in the doorway. 

“There you are, what took you so long? Didn’t know dressing like an old man could turn you into one!”

“Your brother was just released from the hospital yesterday,” James said sharply. “Forgive him for needing a little more time to get ready than usual.”

Q sighed gently, putting his hand on James’ arm. “It’s alright, love, Lizzie knows, it’s just a joke.” Lizzie flashed James a bright smile. “Lizzie, this is James, my boyfriend. James, this is my sister Lizzie. She’s the oldest.”

Lizzie offered her hand, clearly not deterred by James’ sharp defense of Q. “Pleasure to meet you. Percy’s been rather secretive about you, we’ve all been anxious to get to see the mysterious James in person.”

“Nothing special,” James defers, ducking his head as he took her offered hand.. “Just someone Percy works with.” It’s not a total lie.

He is two steps in when he is wrapped in a bundle of rose scented fabric that can only belong to Q’s mother.

“I am utterly charmed, darling,” she said with a warm grin. “Just proved what I’ve always said, having my baby boy bring home such a looker.” James laughed as he watched the woman bustle around making sure everything was spotless.

“I’m Lillian, but you can call me Lilly.”

Q smiled, glad everything was going off so well. “We work together on a lot of projects,” he said, also not entirely a lie. “It’s how we met.”

Lizzie beamed. “Oh, that is sooo sweet.” She followed them into the flat, and took coats. 

Grinning, Q turned to his mother. “Oh, hush, mum, can ya not embarrass me, maybe?” He held out his arms for a hug, though.

Lilly embraced him, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Sweetie, I live to embarrass my children. You know this. But how are you? You vanish for weeks and then I get a call that there’s been an accident and you almost died!”

Q sighed. “You know I travel a lot for work, mum, things just got hectic...and then I’m biking down King street, and a ruddy bus comes out of nowhere...I’m okay, though, doctor’s all said I’ll be just fine. And who told you I almost died?” He frowned, throwing a glance at James. If there was anything Q was going to do, it was to keep his mother from worrying. She had had more than enough on her plate for over 25 years.

“I talked to the doctors,” she said softly. “You were asleep the first time I visited because of pain, so I didn’t stay long, but they told me you could have died.”

James took a moment to be thankful for the discretion of MI6 cleared doctors.

“But enough of that,” he said with forced cheer. “Percy will be just fine. Besides, I’m taking some time off to look after him while he regains the full use of both his hands. It’s water under the bridge now.” 

Lizzie frowned. “Both his hands? Perc? What happened?” She was instantly at his side, gingerly taking his hands in her and examining them. “Oh, Perc...”

“It’s not that bad, honestly,” he said, trying to brush it off. “Mum...I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I’m sorry...for all of this. But I’m alright, I promise.”

Lilly frowned, but dropped the subject. She led James and Q to the table, where a lunch was spread out and waiting for them. There was another person at the table who was a rounder softer version of Q, more like her mother than her brother.

“I’m James,” he said, holding out his hand. “I assume you’re the other sister.”

She smiled up at him and shook his hand. “Pleasure to meet you, I’m Cori.” 

Q came over and planted a kiss on her cheek. “You’re looking well. Where’s Rhys? Isn’t he supposed to be here, looking after you and the bun in the oven?” His eyes darted to her stomach, which was protruding slightly.

Cori laughed. “He’s working. And I’m perfectly capable of looking after my own bun, thanks.” Her eyes sparkled. “Or, well, actually...buns. Plural. We found out at the last ultrasound its twins.”

The look of surprised joy on Q’s face was priceless. “Twins! Congratulations, Cor!” He pulled her into a hug.

James let out a small wistful sigh. Another thing he will never have because of his circumstances. But he smiles, happy for Q. At least this way there can be children in Q’s life.

But once everyone is seated the food comes out. Lilly has clearly outdone herself. There is heaps of food, and all of it smells wonderful.

“Thank you for having us over for lunch,” James said with a smile. “It all smells wonderful.”

Q grins. “Home cooked meals, god, how I’ve missed you.” The five of them sat around the small second-hand table, and Lilly dished up for each of them, making sure to pile extra onto Q’s plate. “Mum, really, I don’t think anyone can eat this much food, god...” but he dug in with gusto.

“So, James, what do you do?” Cori asked. “I live up in the suburbs and I’ve been a bit busy lately, so I haven’t gotten all the gossip from Mum and Liz yet.” She smirked.

“We work together,” James said with a smile. “I met him when I was helping write up a grant and was utterly charmed. The work isn’t all that interesting though you do meet some odd ducks.” It was a fond jibe at Q, who just rolled his eyes.

“Oh, go on, call me a duck all you like. Eventually a witty comeback will emerge and then we’ll see who’s laughing,” he joked. “Or are you talking about the illustrious Miss Moneypenny?”

Lizzie frowned. “Who’s she?”

“Office secretary. Quite a lady, though.”

“She is,” James said with a shake of his head. “Everyone is terrified of her, and rightfully so. Everyone is sure she’s actually running everything from that desk of hers.” He helped himself to a serving of peas, watching as Q struggled to hold a bowl in his bad hand. Just before he dropped it, James took it out of his hands.

“Let me serve you,” he said softly, tucking a stray curl behind Q’s ear.

Q felt the heat rise in his cheeks but nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered back. Glancing up, he was Lizzie smiling softly at them.

“You two are adorable. See, told you you’d find someone incredible someday, Perce.” 

Looking over at James, Q smiled. “I should have believed you.”

James pressed a kiss to Q’s temple and smiled.

“Don’t let him fool you. I’m the lucky one.”

The rest of the meal went smooth as silk, and James was happy for it. Q had a wonderful family, and they put him at ease in a way he hadn’t for a long time.

Lizzie and Cori simply beamed at the boys and sent them home with a container of leftovers. “You’re way too skinny, Percy,” Cordelia said, kissing her brother’s cheek. “You need to put on some weight. Got that, James? Your job is to fatten him up.”

As they waved their last goodbyes and stepped out into the hallway, Q smiled. “So...what did you think of them?”

“I see where you get your charm from,” James said with a smile. “They are utterly wonderful.”

The drive home was comfortable, but James could see just how exhausted Q was. He still got tired out easily, and James hated seeing him looking so pale.

“Let’s get you to bed,” he said when they arrived home. “You should take it easy for the rest of the day.”

Q grumbled. “Must I?” He asked, the posh RP accent back as if it had never left. “I hate feeling so useless. He kicked off his shoes by the door, nudging them into line with his toes, and grabbed his oversized sweater from the hook by the door. “Just let me stay on the couch, then I can at least pretend I’m doing something useful.”

James frowned, but acquiesced. He wasn’t going to push the issue, but he knew that Q would most likely doze right off. Of course he wasn’t sensible enough to do it in his own bed, but James could mother him just as easily on the couch.

Q settled in, grabbing his laptop. “Ahh, hello, beautiful, how are you? I’ve missed you so.” He grinned, and booted up the computer, checking emails and just puttering around. He smiled up at James occasionally.

“Do I have to compete with your computer for your time?” James asked with a fond smile. “Because I’m pretty sure I can’t win that one.” He put a cup of earl grey tea before Q, coffee in his own mug, and curled up around his Quartermaster.


End file.
